


Unconventional Conflict Resolution

by GoodyearTheShippyCat



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Come Eating, Come Sharing, Comeplay, Dom Abel, Dominant Bottom, Edging, Knifeplay, Locked In, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Blood, Multi, No Negotiation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Rimming, Spanking, Starfighter Secret Santa 2017, Strip Tease, Switching, Tears, Threesome - M/M/M, Topping from the Bottom, Under-negotiated Kink, Using Appropriate Amounts of Lube, ruined orgasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 03:00:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13137696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodyearTheShippyCat/pseuds/GoodyearTheShippyCat
Summary: Abel is sick of Praxis and Cain fighting like children over him, so he decides to take matters into his own hands. He locks them all in a room in order to sort things out.





	Unconventional Conflict Resolution

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Francowitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Francowitch/gifts).



> This fic was written for the 2017 Starfighter Secret Santa Exchange. I really hope you like it, Francowitch, and have a very happy holiday season!

“Abel, I don’t know if this is a good idea…”

Praxis couldn’t help feeling apprehensive as the lovely navigator he’d been carrying a torch for dragged him through the corridors of the _Sleipnir_. When Abel had surprised him outside of his own quarters that evening, he’d been thrilled at first. Abel had leaned in close and asked if Praxis would like to do something for him, practically purring his request in the fighter’s ear. Praxis could barely contain himself—desperately wanting to close the distance between them—having fantasized about that exact situation so many times.

Unfortunately for him, reality had other ideas. Abel had stepped back, smiling, and taken hold of Praxis’ wrist. Even that small point of contact was enough to make his head swim with desire. But now they were approaching Abel’s room; a room he shared with the one person on the ship Praxis had _zero_ desire to spend any time with.

Abel entered his access code into the panel and dragged Praxis through the door even before it finished sliding open. A cold shower couldn’t have put a damper on his excitement any faster than the sight of Cain lounging across two mattresses pushed together on the floor, smoke wafting from a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. It threatened to fall into the rumpled sheets as Cain’s jaw dropped.

“What the FUCK is he doing here?!”

“Shush, Cain,” Abel said firmly, closing the door behind him and fiddling with the panel as the two fighters squabbled for his attention.

“Don’t fucking shush me, Princess–”

“Maybe I should go–”

“You’d _better_ fucking go before I–”

Two loud beeps sounded and a red light Praxis had never seen before lit up the panel. In the corner of the screen, the words ‘LOCKDOWN IN EFFECT’ were clearly visible. Both fighters’ heads had swivelled at the noise as Abel turned around, surveying the men in front of him with a strange expression on his face.

“Abel, I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re doing–”

“ _Cain_ ,” Abel barked in a clear voice, actually stopping his partner mid-sentence, “If you could just be quiet for once, I’ll explain.”

Praxis shuffled in place awkwardly, feeling Cain’s glare directed back at him, but kept his attention on Abel. When it was clear that neither fighter was going to interrupt him again, Abel walked into the room. He brushed a hand lightly over each of the dark-uniformed men’s arms as he passed between them. Leaning up against the wall by the small set of drawers, he smirked; the scarred side of his lips twisting up and his eyes sparkling.

“I am absolutely sick and tired of you two fighting like children over me,” Abel began, looking between the two fighters, “So tonight you’re going to learn to get along. By working together–”

Cain interjected, not surprising Praxis in the least. “You pansy-ass navigators may have stupid tea parties where you all pretend to like each other, Princess, but we’re fighters. We fucking _fight_ each other. It’s our job. We don’t have to get the fuck along.”

Abel just looked unimpressed. “Well you two do, because you’re driving me up the wall. As I was saying, you’ll be working together. To please me.”

“Oh hell no!” Cain spat, nostrils flaring as he pointed a threatening finger at Praxis, “Touch him and I’ll fuck you up, Cyclops.”

Abel continued, indifferent to his fighter’s protestations. “You also both need to learn to listen, so you’ll be following _my_ orders tonight,” he looked at each of them in turn as he continued, “Cain, you need to learn to play nice and share your toys. So you’ll get to watch Praxis here fuck me.”

Praxis’ good eye felt like it was about to pop out of its socket as he gaped at the navigator.

“And you, Praxis, need to learn to control yourself. All this hounding me about Cain has been inappropriate, and you should have known to hold back. So, you’re not allowed to come until I say so. _And_ you have to fuck Cain until he does, before you can have me.”

A great deal of arguing followed that, and it nearly came to blows when Cain lunged at Praxis. But both the fighters were under Abel’s spell; his quiet expectation that they defer to him worked better than any threat of violence or ostentatious show of strength could have. The navigator shushed them again and they complied, albeit still glaring at each other.

“I almost forgot. Because you’ve both been such troublemakers, first on the agenda for this evening is punishment. Pick your poison, boys. You have three options. A spanking,” he emphasized his words by slapping one hand down on the palm of the other, noise from the impact ringing in the small room. “One for every time you’ve annoyed me.” Next, Abel reached into the top drawer and rummaged for a moment before finding what he was looking for. “Or I can try out this lovely little piece of rope, just the right length and width for trussing up and torturing a cock and balls.” Both fighters flinched at that suggestion, and Abel used the moment to reach into his pocket and take out a small metal object. “ _Orrrrrrr_ … some fun with this lovely knife I borrowed from Deimos,” he flicked the weapon open so it gleamed in the overhead light.

“Did you tell him why you wanted to borrow that knife, Princess?” Cain jeered.

Abel just smirked again. “Yes, actually. He was very much in favour of the idea. Even wanted to know if he could have second go. So that’s always on the table, if either of you are uncooperative.”

Praxis coughed, trying to cover the undignified noise of surprise that he’d let out. Cain just frowned and grumbled something that sounded like: “ _Of course he fucking did._ ”

Abel pushed off the wall and sauntered over to Praxis, swaying his hips and fixing the taller man with a seductive stare. “As our guest,” he began, ignoring the huff that Cain let out, “You have first choice.” Praxis stood his ground and tried not to blush as Abel ran a finger down his chest. “What’ll it be, handsome?”

Praxis took a moment to think—a task made more difficult by how close Abel was standing—and came to the conclusion that a spanking was probably his best choice. If it was one for every time he’d annoyed Abel, it couldn't possibly be more than a half dozen.

“I’ll take the spanking, please,” he said politely, keeping his voice as neutral as he could manage. Abel merely nodded while Cain barked a laugh, saying “ _p_ _ansy_ ” under his breath.

Competition always brought out Cain’s reckless side, and he didn’t need any time to think his options over. “Hey Abel, you wanna start using that knife on me now, or do I need to wait until this dumb fuck gets his ass slapped?” He gave his navigator a wolfish smile before continuing, “It’s not like I haven’t done it before. And you’re too much of a softie to really fuck me up with it, anyway.”

Abel just looked between the two fighters for a moment, a grin on his face that said he had more surprises for them. “Well, that went pretty much how I expected, which isn’t any fun. So congratulations, you’ve just selected each other’s punishments!” Neither fighter seemed happy about the turn of events, but both had too much pride to voice any complaint.

Abel walked over to Cain and ran nimble navigator’s fingers through his unkempt hair, brushing stray locks from his forehead. “Cain, if I have to give you a spanking for every time you’ve annoyed me, not only will we be here all night, but I’ll end up with some kind of repetitive stress injury and be unable to perform my duties. So let’s just make it twenty.”

Letting his fingers drag down Cain’s neck and hook into the black tank top he wore, Abel tugged his partner over to one side of the room. He sat down on the hard edge of the exposed bunk surface, feet resting on the floor in front of him.

“Jacket off,” said Abel firmly. Cain obeyed, shrugging out of his uniform jacket and tossing it aside, still smiling down at his navigator like he was tolerating this game merely to humour the pale-haired man. Abel patted his knee, not breaking eye contact with Cain—who let out an irritated “ _tch_ ” as he made a show of draping himself over his navigator, firm stomach resting across the slender man’s lap.

Praxis had remained where he stood, looking around the room and feeling more out of place every moment that the team of the _Reliant_ spent focused solely on each other. He was just starting to think they’d forgotten about him entirely when Abel’s fingers snapping brought his attention back.

“Watch.” Abel spoke the word softly but with the air of a command, perhaps even with a hint of threat. He continued looking Praxis in the eye as he yanked down Cain’s pants to expose his ass. Praxis obeyed, watching the show before him. He got more worked up with each passing minute, even though he knew it would make his own punishment all the more difficult.

Abel took his sweet time teasing Cain; running his fingers lightly over the small amount of smooth skin he could access, giving each globe of the fighter’s ass a quick squeeze, rucking up the black shirt to scratch his nails gently down Cain’s back. What was probably only a few minutes later—but felt like longer—Cain was practically squirming, annoyance clearly visible on his face.

“Are you going to spank me, Princess? Or just admire my fine ass all ni- _GHT_!” Abel spanked him on the final word, turning it into a yelp. Cain flushed a little and gritted his teeth.

“One,” said Abel.

He kept a slow pace while administering the next couple of spanks, letting the anticipation build up and surprising Cain with when exactly his hand would hit, numbering each blow aloud.

“Four,” he said, admiring the rosy imprint of his hand on the fighter’s ass cheek. “Stand up.”

Cain followed the order, expression quizzical. “Stopping a little early, aren’t you?” he joked.

“Yes, thank you for the insight, Cain. I _can_ count,” said Abel, a mischievous grin spreading over his face, “But I want you to show Praxis just how much you’re enjoying your punishment. Strip.”

Cain was already obviously hard, his uniform pants tenting in the front where they rode low over his hips to accommodate being pulled down just below the curve of his bare ass. Never one to be bashful, he stripped almost as slowly as Abel had drawn out the spankings. Cain was showing off every rippling muscle as he pulled his tank top over his head, licking his upper lip seductively, then tossing the garment to hit Praxis in the face with it before starting on his zipper.

Praxis sighed as he removed the smoky, slightly sweat-damp piece of clothing from his head, tossing it to rest with Cain’s previously discarded jacket. Looking back up, he saw the other fighter shuck his pants. Cain had been going commando; his erection jutting straight out from his body. The older fighter couldn’t help but feel his own half-hard cock twitch at the sight.

“Like what you see, Cyclops?” Cain taunted, thrusting his hips at the other man.

Abel ordered Cain back over his knee, continuing where he’d left off. He stopped after six, pulling Cain’s hair hard enough to bring his head back and ordering the fighter to stop rutting against his legs and take his punishment like a good boy. After reaching ten, Abel sat back, contemplating.

“You know…as much as I’m enjoying this, I _would_ like to see you get spanked even harder,” said the navigator, gently caressing Cain’s pert buttocks, “I want that ass rosy red, and bruised enough that it hurts to sit tomorrow—so you remember your lessons.” Abel paused for effect, obviously enjoying the way Cain tensed across his lap. “Seeing as I’m in charge, I think I’ll order Praxis do the other ten for me. His arms look strong enough to do the job well.” Cain began to protest and Abel smacked him again, hard. “You know the idea I had initially, for a spanking every time you annoy me? Let’s do it, starting now. Complain again and it will add an extra spank to your total. You still have ten to go. Don’t make it more.”

The navigator directed Cain to kneel on his hands and knees atop one of the mattresses on the floor. “Mmmm, good boy, Cain. Now you can wait patiently,” he said, placing one still boot-clad foot on the fighter’s back as if he were just a piece of furniture.

“Now it’s your turn to strip for me,” Abel said, gazing at Praxis with a hungry look in his eyes.

“Yes _sir_ ,” Praxis replied, playfully emphasizing the last word. Abel’s eyebrows shot up and he nearly giggled, but quickly cut himself off to try and maintain the air of dominance. Even with a hand over his mouth to hide his smile, Abel’s eyes crinkled up around the corners, belying the tough airs he put on.

Praxis stripped down in an efficient manner, not trusting his ability to make the actions seductive in the way Cain had.

“Ohhhhh, would you look at that… I guess you enjoyed watching even more than I’d hoped, Praxis,” Abel teased, walking over to the taller man and running the back of his knuckles along the fighter’s now fully erect cock. “And here I thought you didn’t like Cain… I’m _very_ glad to see that isn’t the case. I was almost worried you might not be up to your tasks for tonight.”

Praxis directed his gaze to the ceiling momentarily, praying for the strength to get through whatever Abel had in mind. His attention was immediately drawn back to the beautiful navigator when he heard the _snick_ of a knife being opened.

“Mmmmmm, I know I said I wanted you to spank Cain, but I really can’t resist starting your punishment now that I’ve got this big gorgeous body bared for me,” Abel drawled, making teasing motions with the knife in his hand, eyes glinting like black diamonds.

Praxis’ breathing quickened as he felt the edge of the blade just barely touch the soft skin of his neck. He watched Abel gesture down his body with the tip—just barely catching at his skin, leaving a prickly sensation in its wake—while the navigator spoke his thoughts out loud.

“Praxis, Praxis, Praxis… where shall I use this first?” He dragged the dull edge of the blade up again between abs and pecs, following the line with the tip of his tongue all the way up to the fighter’s neck. “Hmmmm, you know, I could give you a scar to match mine... Wouldn’t that just be the most humiliating thing—all the other fighters thinking Cain owns you, too?”

Praxis swallowed audibly as the tip of the knife pricked at the corner of his lower lip, but maintained eye contact with Abel. Torn between submission and defiance, he merely waited and watched, hoping that he hadn’t misjudged Abel’s character too terribly. Hoping he wasn’t _actually_ about to get another facial scar.

“Is this what it looks like when you’re afraid, or turned on? Or both?” asked Abel, voice low and taking on a rough edge as he spoke against the fighter’s ear, “I always thought you were the boring, vanilla type, Praxis, but you’re surprising me. I didn’t expect you to be this kinky! Maybe I _should_ send you to Deimos after this... He’d do the whole knife thing justice far better than me. Cain’s right, I’m too much of a softie to really cut you... much.”

Praxis flinched as the knife edge broke the top layer of skin just beside his lips; he could feel the blood bead along the superficial cut, not actually dripping until the slight pressure was let off and the droplets ran together. They sluggishly trickled down toward his chin, but he barely noticed because suddenly Abel was pressed up against him.

The shorter man licked up the blood, swiping his tongue along the seam where Praxis’ lips met and finishing the motion with a kiss to the opposite corner of the fighter’s lips. It was over before Praxis could get past his surprise in order to react. Abel pulled away just as he leaned into the kiss, so he ended up stumbling forward into the empty space where the navigator had been standing. Licking his lips, Praxis tasted the metallic edge of his own blood and watched Abel, waiting for his next command.

“Back to business,” Abel snapped from where he had taken a seat on the bunk platform again. He gestured toward Cain, who had been so uncharacteristically quiet that Praxis had almost forgotten he was in the room. Abel’s fighter was breathing slowly and regularly, despite the slight tremble in his arms from maintaining the same position since he’d been ordered there. “Give him a few spanks, and make them good.”

Praxis got down on his knees, too, lining himself up at a right angle to the other fighter—for the most impact when he finally swung an arm back and landed his first spank. The sound of flesh hitting flesh practically echoed in the room; the force of the blow enough to make Cain topple forward a little on his shaking arms. He caught himself, and glared back at Praxis; the threat palpable in the air between them.

“Eleven,” Abel practically sang, palming himself through his pants, obviously enjoying the show. “Hit him again.” Praxis obeyed, landing another hard smack to Cain’s other cheek, both now flushed a deep pink.

“Twelve. Very good, Praxis. Now, I want you to eat him out. If he’s going to take _that_ ,” Abel said, eyeing Praxis’ length, “You’ll need to start prepping him. Lube’s on top of the drawers.” Praxis sighed, and took what pleasure he could out of shoving Cain up the mattress a bit, eliciting a hiss and a bit-back curse. Positioning himself behind the other fighter, Praxis wondered at the strange turn his life had taken. This certainly wasn’t a view he’d ever expected to have in front of him.

As he rested one large hand on either side of Cain’s ass, the ornery fighter he was about to rim spoke under his breath. “ _You’ll pay for this, Cycl_ –” Praxis interrupted the threat by roughly spreading Cain’s ass cheeks and licking a wide stripe between them, causing the other man to huff out a breath.

“Cain, did you have something you wanted to share with the class?” Abel asked, mock-seriously, as the fighter clenched his jaw against making any noise in response to being licked in earnest, now. “Hit him again, Praxis.”

Lifting his head, Praxis slapped Cain’s ass, going from above and letting gravity increase the impact of his hand, watching the flesh jiggle slightly. Bending to run his tongue around Cain’s entrance, Praxis reached out with one arm and grabbed the bottle of lube from atop the drawers. Pouring a generous amount onto the fingers of one hand, he rubbed one digit around the edge of Cain’s hole, the cool sensation of the lube making the bent-over fighter take in a sharp breath. Praxis applied a bit of pressure as he teased Cain’s entrance, eventually working one finger in carefully.

Cain shoved his hips back, taking most of the finger in with a grimace. “I’m not a damn blushing virgin, Praxis. Hurry the fuck up!”

If anything, Praxis started moving slower just to antagonize Cain, taking great care while opening him up. He added more lube with each finger he pressed inside the bad-tempered fighter, almost having a good time now that Cain had shut his mouth.

“Oh, you’re going to enjoy this. His ass feels incredible. You can trust me on that,” said Abel, voice wavering a little as he watched the other men on the mattress, his breathing quickening.

Praxis slicked himself up, groaning at the sensation, and lined himself up behind Cain. “Hey, you ready?” he couldn’t help but be courteous, given the situation, even if he didn’t normally like the man.

“The fuck do you think, dumbass? Either stick it in or get the fuck out of here and let Abel do it.”

Figuring that was as close as he would get to an enthusiastic response, Praxis started pushing in, mouth dropping open a little at the overwhelmingly tight heat of the other fighter.

“Give him another slap,” Abel commanded.

Just as he pushed all the way in for the first time, Praxis swung a hand up from below Cain’s ass, catching one cheek on the way. This time he felt the response through his dick as much as his hand, as Cain clenched around him. “Ffffffuck…” hissed Praxis, grabbing onto Cain’s hips to hold still against him for a moment.

“Fourteen.”

It wasn’t long before Cain adjusted, or at least got antsy. “Fucking move already, would you? Fuck, I’m not gonna break. Your dick’s not _that_ fucking big.” He tried to pull partway off, but Praxis tightened the grip on his hips, keeping them together for another moment.

“Okay, now both hands at once,” said Abel, clearly wanting to draw out Cain’s frustration. “One on each cheek, upwards then down again,” he gestured, and Praxis mimicked his actions. Cain snarled as his ass took both types of punishment at once.

“Oh yessssss, that was excellent! It should probably count as four… but I suppose I _do_ get to make the rules, so I’m only going to count two. Both hands landed at the same time, so that’s really not quite separate,” Abel narrated as he slipped down from the bunk to join them on the mattresses. He ran a gentle caress over the side of Cain’s downturned face, tenderness showing through the detached dominance act.

Placing a single kiss on Cain’s lips as Praxis began to move in him, Abel leaned back against the drawers and revelled in the sight of the fighters. He finally unzipped his pants, sighing as his erection escaped the confines of white military issue briefs. Praxis couldn’t help staring at Abel, who was looking almost as debauched as Cain; chewing on his scarred lower lip as he touched himself, moving his hand in time with Praxis’ slow thrusts. Both of them picked up speed, eyes locked over the back of Cain’s head. Abel licked his lips, deliberately drawing out the motion and raising one brow. Unable to watch any longer without risking coming too soon, Praxis groaned and dropped his gaze to Cain’s back.

“Again, Praxis.”

It took the fighter a moment to understand the meaning of the command, distracted by the afterimage of Abel masturbating and the hot press of Cain’s body surrounding him. Muscle memory took over and he spanked Cain once again, causing him to snarl in between panting breaths.

“Seventeen.”

Cain’s arms quivered more and more violently as he pushed back against Praxis’ thrusts, growling. After Abel ordered another spanking, Praxis used the moment of surprise to push down between the other fighter’s shoulders. Cain collapsed onto the mattress on his forearms, ass still up in the air as Praxis slammed into him harder.

“Mmmm, you getting close, baby?” Abel purred, running a hand through Cain’s sweaty hair and yanking his head up. Cain merely nodded in response, licking his lips and huffing out a shivery breath. “Another.”

If this was all it took to get Cain to shut up, he should have tried it sooner, Praxis thought to himself. The meat of his palm connected with Cain’s already sensitive ass, dragging another aroused noise from the man’s throat.

“Nineteen.”

Always a gentleman, Praxis lifted one hand from where it gripped Cain’s hips and reached around to stroke his cock. Cain batted it away violently with one of his own hands, weight shifting shakily to one side as he counterbalanced to avoid falling.

“Don’t– you fuck– ing dare,” Cain got out in between poundings from Praxis’ hips snapping into him. He grabbed hold of himself and jerked off at a punishing pace, burying his face in the sheets again. It wasn’t long before he was letting out little grunts, strokes becoming uneven. Cain let out a low groan as he reached his peak.

“Give him one last double,” said Abel quickly, and Praxis smacked both hands against Cain’s ass cheeks with as much force as he could muster. Cain’s groan turned into a full-on yell as his come splattered the mattress beneath him. Praxis pulled out carefully after Cain had finished twitching through the aftershocks, but didn’t even have time to check on the other fighter before Abel jumped between them.

Abel’s lips pressed hard against his own, a sharp pain reminding him of the cut the navigator had placed beside them as it reopened slightly.

“Lie down,” ordered Abel, gesturing to the other mattress as he undid his jacket. Abel wasted no time getting down to bare skin—the only accessory he kept was the shining knife pulled from one pocket before he let his pants drop. Kicking them back towards the door, Abel stepped forward, towering over Praxis’ reclining form. He dropped to his knees on the mattress, straddling Praxis’ thighs.

Praxis sucked in a harsh breath, practically pushed over the edge just from seeing their leaking cocks close enough to touch. He dug his fingers into the sheets as Abel opened the knife slowly, carefully dragging the dull edge over the twitching muscles of his stomach. Praxis tried to breathe deeply and evenly, to find some calm, as Abel traced the lines of his body with the knife. Occasionally the navigator let the point prick his skin, though not enough to draw blood.

“Do you enjoy this, Praxis?” Abel asked, not actually letting him answer before continuing, “Letting me do what I please with you? Letting me take what I want from you?” He smacked Praxis’ left pectoral muscle with the flat of the blade, then gave him a shallow scratch close to the nipple.

Praxis hissed at the sting, “Nnnnn… yessssss, Abel,” he said breathily. A low, rumbly, threatening noise from beside him was the response. Praxis turned his head to move his blind spot so he could see Cain. The man was watching from where he lay on his side on the other mattress, obviously somewhat recovered.

“Cain, if you’re just going to whine, come over here and get me ready for Praxis,” said Abel, a hint of exasperation in his voice, “And make it good. We have an audience, after all.” The navigator slid down the mattress and repositioned himself with his hands on either side of Praxis’ hips instead.

“Whatever you want, Princess,” Cain said, rolling his eyes a little and crawling over to the others.

“Don’t make me spank you agaihhhhnnn–!” Abel’s threat lost some of its bite as he arched his back, moaning in response to Cain’s mouth on his ass. Abel leaned down and took Praxis’ entire length into his mouth in one go, humming around him. Praxis found himself barely able to hold back, and tried not to watch too closely—as much as he wanted to enjoy the sight he’d imagined more times than he’d like to admit.

Abel pulled off and said “Praxis, look at me when I’m doing something so nice for you. Don't be rude.” The navigator rested the edge of the knife alongside Praxis’ hipbone, threatening. “But remember, if you come before I say so, Cain gets to fuck _you_ , instead.”

“Wait, wha–” Praxis’ surprised question was interrupted by the scratch of the blade against the soft skin of his hip, blood beading in its wake as he bit down on his lower lip.

Abel went back to his task with enthusiasm. He ran his tongue along Praxis’ shaft and swallowed him down while moaning at Cain’s ministrations. He edged Praxis without mercy, pulling off just before sending him over the edge.

“Are you going to come? How much more would it take? Would just breathing on your cock be enough?” Abel huffed a hot breath against the head. Praxis whimpered, hips jumping upward, so that he was glad Abel had momentarily forgotten about the knife, leaving it laying at his side on the mattress. “Huh, I guess I’d better stop for now. How about you just sit back and watch for a bit?” Positioning himself at an angle between Praxis' legs, Abel made sure the fighter had an excellent view of his hole being eaten out and spread open by Cain.

“Watch and learn, Cyclops,” taunted Cain, smirking while he glared at the taller fighter from over Abel’s backside.

“I didn’t hear any complaints from you, earlier,” Praxis replied smugly, to which Cain just _hmph_ -ed.

Turning his face back toward the two men—contorted in pleasure as he stroked himself—Abel switched his gaze between them, little noises streaming from his open mouth as he panted slightly. It was getting to be too much for Praxis. He clamped a hand around the base of his cock with a frustrated whine.

“No touching yourself,” Abel ordered, his stare intense despite being slightly glazed over with lust, “Even if it’s to try and hold yourself back. If you come, you come. The game changes.”

Praxis closed his good eye again, desperately hoping to keep himself together long enough to enjoy his reward.

“Open it,” Abel barked with unexpected menace.

Unable to do otherwise, Praxis obeyed, letting his gaze settle on Cain in hopes of being less insanely turned on. It didn’t work as well as he’d hoped. Praxis couldn’t ignore how good Cain looked; so focused and quiet, obviously enjoying giving Abel pleasure. Whimpering again, Praxis looked up at the ceiling.

Abel whipped around, to a muttered complaint from Cain, who was left leaning into thin air. The navigator grabbed Praxis’ dick with one hand and the previously abandoned knife with the other. Abel gave a firm stroke and nicked Praxis’ thigh with the blade at the same time. It was too much and not enough all at once; the stimulation of Abel’s hand gone as quickly as it had come back. The fighter felt come drizzle all over his stomach, letting out a guttural yell which twisted into a keening whine as the ruined orgasm left him confused and wanting.

_Tsk_ -ing at him, Abel asked: “So, Praxis, how often do you bottom? This isn’t your first time, is it?”

Barely coherent, Praxis shook his head, staring foggily at Abel.

“Well, regardless, I’ll make sure Cain is gentler with you than he was with me.”

“Hey, come on! What the fuck is that all about, Princess?” Cain protested weakly, eyebrows drawing together in annoyance. Abel gave him a sharp slap on the ass for his trouble, and the fighter hissed, still sore from earlier.

“He’ll be really sweet to you,” said Abel, glaring at his partner as if daring him to challenge orders again, “And because I’m feeling so generous right now—and I still want you to fuck me—I’m going to bend the rules a little. Cain is going to fuck you until you’re nice and hard again, then I’m going to ride you. And this time, you _really_ can’t come until I say so, or that third punishment will be your reward.” The navigator pointed to the length of rope hanging partly off the edge of the drawers, unused but not forgotten. Praxis shuddered and nodded his agreement.

Abel slid up alongside the taller fighter, grabbing the pillows which had been scattered across the floor and stacking them beneath his shoulders, so he could lean back comfortably while watching everything. Abel patted the side of Praxis’ face and dropped a kiss to his lips.

“Cain, I think you can grab that lube and get to work, now.”  
  
“Spread ‘em,” Cain shoved Praxis’ legs apart by the knees and settled between them, squirting some more lube onto his fingers, which were still tacky from being inside of Abel.

“Charming, Cain,” said Abel in a rather unimpressed voice. “Why don’t you try complimenting our guest instead? That would be more appropriate. Tell him how gorgeous he is.”

“Sure. Real beauty queen,” Cain replied snidely, focused on the work his fingers were doing, making their way slowly inside the other fighter. Praxis was already letting out rough breaths and small noises, still sensitive from coming so recently.

“I know you can do better than that!” Abel chided. “Try again.”

Cain let out a long-suffering sigh. “The eye patch is actually pretty fucking hot,” he ground out between clenched teeth, not meeting Praxis’ startled gaze.

“Mmmm, I agree,” said Abel, dragging a finger down Praxis’ chest and through a small pool of ejaculate cooling in the furrows of his abs. Abel brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them clean, humming with pleasure. He leaned over to kiss Praxis deeply, letting the man taste himself. “Mmmmmhhhh, Cain… I want you to lick him clean with me.”

Praxis moaned aloud as the team of the _Reliant_ trailed their tongues up and down his stomach, Cain’s fingers never ceasing their movement, even as he leaned further over Praxis’ hips to capture Abel’s mouth in a messy kiss. Praxis’ cock started twitching at the sight.

“Hhhahhh, Cain, I want to watch you go down on him,” said Abel, breaking away from his fighter’s mouth to breathe for a moment before sliding up to press against Praxis’ side.

“Nnnnnnhhhh…” moaned Praxis as Cain’s mouth found the head of his cock. The other fighter sucked at it while he continued to finger Praxis open.

Abel was panting slightly, taking in the sight and grinding his erection into Praxis’ hip. “Ahhhh, how does he taste, Cain? Delicious?” Cain grunted in response, taking Praxis’ cock further into his mouth. Abel poked his fighter’s side with one foot, making him jump a little. “I wanna hear you say it.”

“Yeah, ‘s good,” Cain said, licking a stripe up Praxis’ length, breathing harder than he had been before, “Tastes good.” His hips rolled against the mattress, and Praxis felt more than heard the moan he let out, rumbling all around his cock. Cain was clearly enjoying himself more than he would admit.

“Praxis, do you want Cain to fuck you now?” Abel asked, getting an immediate and enthusiastic nod as answer.

After a moment of fussing with lube and positions, both fighters groaned. Cain pushed his way inside Praxis with care, moving slowly, hands grasping the other man’s upper thighs. He paused partway in when Praxis flinched, running a palm over the taller fighter’s flank, questioning without words.

“Hahhh– just give me– unnhh, a minute,” Praxis grimaced, willing his body to relax around the intrusion. It had been a long while since he’d let someone do this with him. In a display of surprising gentleness, Cain just remained where he was, letting his hands play along Praxis’ thighs and giving a few strokes to the larger fighter’s cock.

“Mmmmm, you’re both doing so well,” purred Abel, who seemed to be getting desperately impatient to join in. He shifted to his knees and shuffled closer to Praxis’ head. “Ahhh, Praxis, I want you to suck me.”

With Abel’s gorgeous dick bobbing next to his face and Cain’s pushing further inside him at a frustratingly slow pace, Praxis couldn’t focus on anything else. He twisted his upper body to get a better angle, grabbed the navigator’s slim hips and made good use of his mouth.

“Hnnnnnhhhh, so good,” said Abel, head thrown back, hips twitching forward of their own volition.

Praxis swallowed him sloppily, licking up and down his dripping cock, tasting him. Between the sensation of Abel’s cock resting heavily in his mouth and adjusting to the feeling of Cain fully sheathed inside him now, Praxis felt so full, so used, so amazing. When Cain started to move, Praxis couldn’t keep his rhythm giving head. He opted to place wet kisses along Abel’s hips and inner thighs, bringing one hand over to stroke up and down the pale-haired man’s length.

“Unnnhhhh, okay, okay, I can’t…” Abel huffed out after a few minutes, pushing at Praxis’ shoulders then dropping to the mattress beside him, “Mmmmm, too good, I need to wait a while longer.” He brought their mouths together again, and Praxis whimpered into the kiss. Abel pushed his tongue inside the fighter’s mouth, claiming it and making him whimper more as Cain’s hips snapped over and over, picking up speed.

It wasn’t long before Praxis was a hot mess of overstimulation, practically whining and quivering beneath Cain, who had set a punishing pace, slamming his hips into the other fighter’s again and again. The noises leaving his throat uncontrollably only got louder when Abel slicked his cock with one hand, straddled his hips, and sank down onto him in one smooth motion.

“Ohhhhh… fuck yessssss,” said Abel, head bowed and hands braced on Praxis’ broad chest as he adjusted to the fighter’s substantial size.

Cain had slowed his thrusting, staying buried deep in Praxis and rolling his hips slightly as he sucked down the side of Abel’s neck from behind. Abel leaned back, bracing his hands on Praxis’ bent knees and twisting to capture Cain’s mouth. Cain gave a rolling, throaty noise and reciprocated; tongue sliding in and out of the navigator’s mouth, nipping at swollen lips, paying extra attention to the scarred side as if to remind Abel of which fighter in the room he belonged to. Snapping his hips sharply, Cain got both of the other men to groan as the movement travelled through their joined bodies.

That seemed to be the push Abel needed to refocus his energies, starting to lift his hips and then sink down again, building a rhythm atop Praxis. Cain started to move in synch with his partner; pulling out as Abel lifted up, and thrusting back in as Abel took Praxis deep inside him. It didn’t take long before Praxis was a trembling mess, hands running along Abel’s thighs as they worked, unable to settle in any one place. He let out a continuous stream of moans, punctuated by hitching breaths every time Cain’s hips slammed home.

“A– ah– Abel... P– puh– pleaaaaase...” Praxis nearly sobbed, incoherent with overstimulation.

Abel leaned forward, unhooking his arms from where they’d been bent behind him to encircle Cain’s neck. Cain let his hands fall from where they’d been pinching Abel’s nipples and dug his fingers into Praxis’ hips instead.

Abel brought his lips right up to Praxis’ ear and whispered, “You have to be good and wait for us to finish first,” then twisted his neck to look back at Cain. “Harder! I want to feel you fuck me through Praxis!” The navigator braced his arms on either side of Praxis’ shoulders, letting Cain’s movements propel the other fighter’s cock in and out of him.

Watching his own dick sink into Praxis, whose erection got engulfed by Abel’s ass in turn was so hot that it didn’t take long for Cain to let out a deep groan and spill inside the larger man.

“Fuck me!” Abel commanded, smacking Praxis’ flank then bringing his hand to his own erection, jerking himself hard and fast.

Obeying immediately, Praxis thrust up into Abel at a fast pace, barely pulling out before sinking in again, feeling Cain’s still-hard cock slide in and out of him with the motion. It was too much; the effort of maintaining his final shred of control while feeling like he would unravel. Praxis could feel hot tears pricking at the corner of his good eye and the remains of his other, hidden beneath the patch. He whimpered and brought his mouth up to Abel’s for a sloppy kiss.

“Haahhhh, hahhh, nnnnnn, _come with me_ ,” panted Abel into the fighter’s mouth. “Hnnnnnggghhhh….ahhhhhhhhhh!”

Praxis was already at the edge, tumbling over it with the permission he’d been waiting for. The dual sensations of clenching muscles surrounding him and Abel’s come shooting hot across his stomach melded with the intensity of a proper orgasm to completely undo him. It was so intense Praxis couldn’t even make a sound; mouth open in a silent scream, pushing all the breath from his lungs.

Panting, Abel collapsed hard on top of Praxis’ at the same time as Cain finally pulled out, so they shared a full-body shiver. Cain flopped down beside Praxis on the bed, stroking Abel’s hair. “You enjoy yourself, Princess?” he said, voice gravelly but brimming with fondness.

Abel nodded, looking dreamily over at Cain from where his head rested on Praxis’ chest, moving up and down with each rapid but slowing breath. Recovering fairly quickly, Abel raised his head to look at Praxis, smiling. He wiped the drying tears from the fighter's cheeks and kissed his jaw.

Slowly slipping off of Praxis, which ripped a final soft moan from each of their throats, Abel stood on slightly wobbly legs and walked into the head. The sound of running water floated through the open door and a few minutes later he returned. Abel was all cleaned up, toting an armful of damp towels and soft dry ones, alongside antiseptic wipes, bandages, and cups of water. Cain eagerly relieved him of the cups, draining one and placing the other next to Praxis, who was still laying on the mattress, clearly exhausted and not quite ready to do much else.

Abel sat down in between the two men, humming contentedly as he cleaned them up with the towels, then set to dressing Praxis’ cuts. He wiped away crusting blood with a clean damp towel, disinfected the shallow wounds and bandaged them, placing kisses over top of each as he went. After cleaning the blade of the knife and closing it up, then re-capping the bottle of lube which had rolled to one side of the mattresses, forgotten, Abel placed both items on top of the drawers. He untwisted the sheets and pulled them up over the sated fighters, squeezing himself between the two men and stealing one of the pillows.

Cain rested propped up on another pillow, letting the hand of the arm he leaned on stroke soft circles against Abel’s shoulder. The navigator sighed happily, resting up against Cain’s side, watching as the fighter’s free hand brought a smoke to and from his mouth, lazily. Praxis lay on his side, curled around Abel, head resting on the smaller man’s chest and legs hanging off the edge of the mattresses, drifting in post-coital bliss.

“So,” Abel began, “Do you two think you can try to get along a little better from here on out?”

Praxis nodded and sighed contentedly, giving Abel a gentle squeeze where his arm rested over top of the navigator’s midsection.

Cain gazed down at Abel sweetly. “Yeah. For you, Princess, anything.” Not a moment later though, he snorted, adding, “I guess Cyclops here isn’t so bad, anyway. 6 out of 10, would fuck again.”

Abel glared up at his fighter. He smacked Cain hard on the thigh, nearly causing him to drop his cigarette.

“Hey! I thought the punishment was over,” complained Cain, frowning around the smoke now safely back between his lips. Abel just flashed a mischievous grin at him.

“I’ve decided I like the ‘annoy me and get a spanking’ rule. I think I’ll keep it.”

 

END


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